


Summer Festival

by Transposable_Element



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Closeted Character, Crushes, Cultural Differences, Drunkenness, Family, Fauns & Satyrs, Friendship, Loyalty, Multi, Nymphs & Dryads, Underage Drinking, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-01-27 20:25:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1721504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Transposable_Element/pseuds/Transposable_Element
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>About three months after the events of <i>The Horse and His Boy</i>, the Archenlanders visit Narnia for the Summer Festival.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Archenlanders are greeted by the kings and queens at Cair Paravel. Cor and Aravis catch up with Bree and Hwin. Aravis has a bath. Cor hates being fussed over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shar is King Lune's nephew, the son of his younger brother Shin and a lady of the Seven Isles. He was Lune's heir for several years, from the time of Shin's death in a hunting accident (the kind that happens when one is drunk) until the birth of the twins. He's a Master Swordsman and is the weapons master at Anvard, which includes the duty of training the twins. He's two years older than Peter, and they trained together and became friends when the Pevensies first came to Narnia and Peter and Edmund were learning swordplay. 
> 
> I don't think any of the other characters need an introduction.

The party caught its first glimpse of Cair Paravel soon after crossing Glasswater and turning northeast to travel through the woods. From then on, whenever they topped a hill where trees were sparse, they looked for the castle. But it wasn’t until they reached the Great River and turned east to follow it to the sea that they had a clear view of their destination. For the first time since leaving Anvard they sorted themselves into their formal order. The king’s guard rode ahead, followed by Lune and his sons. Aravis and Shar completed the family party, and courtiers and more men-at-arms brought up the rear.

Cair Paravel was impressive indeed—far larger than Anvard, and more splendid. It reminded Aravis of some of the castles in the western provinces of Calormen. To Cor, it looked like a jumble of turrets and ramparts, swarming with far more people than he had seen anywhere except in Tashbaan.

They were expected, of course. Grooms came out to take their horses as they arrived at the outer gate. Aravis dismounted and straightened her clothing. Cor was looking anxious as he tried to smooth his hair. 

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” said Corin.

“For once, your brother is right. These are our good friends and allies,” said King Lune. 

“You’ve met everybody but the High King,” said Shar. “And he’s only a man—a great man, but still a man.” Aravis puzzled a little at this—it seemed so unlike Shar, somehow. But she had no time to think about it.

The trumpeters preceded them as they walked toward the gate. It seemed like a very long walk. Aravis saw four figures there, flanked by their own honor guard. She caught Queen Lucy’s eye, and the queen smiled at her. There was a flourish of trumpets and the herald announced them.

Aravis watched closely as King Lune greeted the Narnian kings and queens. Lune and the High King greeted each other cordially. They kissed formally on both cheeks and then shook hands, addressing each other as “Sir.” Lune then presented Cor to the High King before greeting Queen Susan. He bent over her hand in a courtly manner, addressing her as “dear lady.” He shook hands with King Edmund, calling him by his first name. Then he took Queen Lucy’s hand, but Aravis never learned whether he intended to shake it or kiss it, because before he could do either Lucy stepped forward and gave him a daughterly kiss on the cheek. Lune smiled at her warmly.

Cor spent longer greeting the High King than his father had, since this was the first time they had met. King Peter kissed him on both cheeks, too—he had to bend down quite a bit to do this—and then shook his hand and seemed to be apologizing for not having come down to Anvard to meet him sooner. Cor was a little pink in the face, but he seemed to be controlling his nervousness pretty well, though Aravis couldn’t hear what he was saying. Then Queen Susan shook his hand and then there was a break in protocol as she and her younger brother and sister all started remarking on how much Cor had grown since they had last seen him only three months before. It was true that he had grown more than an inch, but he also looked taller because he was finally learning to stand up straight; and he was starting to fill out, too, although he was still skinny compared to his brother. Corin was now greeting the kings and queens, but Aravis wasn’t able to observe much of this because she was about to run the gauntlet herself. King Lune, who had fallen back, stepped forward again to present her. “Sir, please allow me to make known to you our guest, Aravis Tarkheena of Calavar. Lady Aravis, His Majesty King Peter, High King over all kings in Narnia—and our very good friend.”

She curtsied to the High King. He inclined his head, but he did not try to take her hand, and he stood well away from her. Somebody must have told him that she was uncomfortable with people touching her, especially men she didn’t know; this was less true than it had once been, but she was still glad that he didn’t try to shake her hand—or worse, kiss it—because he was quite intimidating enough as it was. Here was yet another big barbarian male, as tall as Shar and nearly as brawny, with straight dark hair, straight features, and a very serious expression. He smiled and welcomed her to the north and said something about hoping she would be happy here. She thanked him. His words were kind, but she felt as though he didn’t really see her. 

She went on to Queen Susan, who shook her hand and said she was pleased to see her again; Aravis didn’t believe this for a minute, but of course she replied in the same vein. The queen started saying something about Aravis’s dress (which, like most of Aravis’s clothes, was the work of Sura, one of the queen’s dressmakers), but she paused in the middle of a sentence. Shar was shaking hands with the High King, and Queen Susan turned to look at them, so Aravis did, too. It was an odd greeting. As they shook hands, the High King said “Shar” in a flat voice, and Shar replied “Peter” in exactly the same tone. That was all they said. And both of them looked quite grim, Aravis thought. If they knew each other well enough for Shar to call the High King by his name, which very few people did—not even King Lune—why were they being so unfriendly? And hadn’t Shar been talking just a moment ago about what a great man the king was? Queen Susan turned toward Shar, took his hand, and greeted him with a smile. 

Aravis decided with irritation that the queen must be finished with her and turned next to King Edmund. “Lady Aravis,” he said, smiling, “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again! I hope we have a chance for a talk later.” She felt her face growing warm as he took her hand. For a moment he seemed unsure what to do with it, then he bent over it as if to kiss it, though he did not actually touch her hand with his lips. “Oh, Edmund,” said Queen Lucy, “must you be such a terrible flirt?” She stepped forward and embraced Aravis, kissing her on the cheek. Aravis was flustered. Was the king really flirting with her? He was shaking hands with Shar now, and then Lucy greeted Shar, and then the formal greetings were over. Thank the gods for that! 

Lucy put her arm through Aravis’s and walked with her toward the castle gate. “Don’t mind Edmund,” she said, “He doesn’t mean anything by it. Sometimes he just can’t resist.” Aravis wasn’t sure exactly what had just happened. Had King Edmund been improper? She had studied protocol, but she couldn’t remember enough of what she had read about it to say for certain. Besides, despite the formality of the greeting, much of it had technically violated protocol. King Lune and Corin and Shar knew all the Narnians well; they were friends and close allies, so this was not the kind of greeting the Narnians would have made to any other foreign monarch and his party. “Oh dear,” Lucy was saying, apparently distressed by her silence, “he’s upset you, hasn’t he? I shall have to speak to him.” Lucy began talking about the gathering this evening in the Great Hall. Aravis nodded and listened, but she was still puzzled. 

They were trailing the others, who had sorted into groups as they started across the courtyard: King Peter and King Lune were walking together, talking earnestly. Shar had given his arm to Queen Susan. King Edmund was joking with the twins and looking very much like a boy himself. Cor stopped just then and waved a hand high over his head. “Bree!” he called out. Aravis followed his gaze and saw Bree and Hwin standing in a grassy area next to the courtyard. She turned to Lucy, but before she could say anything, Lucy said “Run along and see your friends,” so she did. She caught up with Cor, who was half running. The Horses trotted into the courtyard to meet them. 

She threw her arms around Hwin’s neck and kissed her. Hwin nickered softly. “Oh, Hwin, I’m _so_ glad to see you,” she said. Cor was greeting Bree in similar fashion. “Hallo, Bree,” Aravis said, reaching up to pat him on the neck. Hwin gave Cor a horse kiss. There were a few minutes of happy, confused greetings. Both Horses commented on Cor’s height. They kept calling him Shasta and apologizing and correcting themselves. All of them were laughing. 

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you wearing a dress,” Hwin said to Aravis, “I’d forgotten you ever did!” 

“It’s a divided skirt. I hate them, but I finally had to give in and wear one to ride up here, since I couldn’t very well greet the kings and queens formally in my trousers….I suppose it’s a good thing that I had it made, even though I vowed I’d never wear one,” she said, ruefully.

After a few minutes, Cor said “Do you want to go in now?” 

But Bree pawed the ground with a hoof and said, sounding rather bashful, “Er, yes, but there’s somebody I want you to meet first.” Aravis looked at Hwin, who rolled her eyes. Bree turned, and from the other side of the courtyard a very pretty young mare came trotting toward them. She told them to call her Rinny, and they were given to understand that she was soon to be Mrs. Bree. 

“Very quick work, Bree!” said Aravis, laughing. “Congratulations!”

“Love at first sight,” Bree said proudly. Hwin rolled her eyes again. They talked a little more, and Aravis was glad to see that Rinny seemed to be quite a straight-forward and practical mare, and certainly no pushover. Just right for Bree, she thought. She’ll keep him in line.

Cor and Bree and Rinny went inside, but Aravis wanted a private talk with Hwin, so they walked around the courtyard together. “What about you?” she asked, “have you met anybody?” During their journey, Hwin had told Aravis that she was looking forward to starting a family once she was free.

“Not yet,” said Hwin. “I’ve been very busy. I’m working with a group of Talking Beasts, trying to put a stop to the slave trade.”

“Oh!” said Aravis, startled. “Is there really a slave trade up here?”

Hwin nodded her head seriously. “Yes, and it’s more organized than I had realized. There are slavers capturing Talking Beasts and shipping them out through a secret port somewhere on the Archenland coast. I don’t know if you’ve been down there yet, but it’s very rugged—there are plenty of places for pirates and slavers to hide. We’re getting ready to petition the High King and King Lune to go after them, to put them out of business once and for all. In fact, we’re going to make the petition tomorrow, while both of their majesties are here at Cair Paravel.”

“That’s wonderful, Hwin. Do they know you’re planning to approach them about it?”

“Oh yes. This is a formal petition, but they know about our work already. They’re both very sympathetic. It’s just a matter of convincing them to make it a priority.”

“Is Bree involved, too?”

“Not really. He’s just happy to be home. He wants to enjoy his freedom for a while. I really can’t blame him. He had a much harder life in Calormen than I did in many ways. He was a warhorse; I was a lady’s saddle horse. I never experienced the kind of danger and hardship he did. And his master was a terrible, cruel man. Some of the stories he’s told me…” Hwin whinnied and tossed her head.

Aravis nodded.

“And how have you been, sweetheart?” Hwin asked. “Are you settling in?”

“Oh, I’m all right. It’s…King Lune has been wonderful, and I’m making some friends…”

“But?”

“But…Oh, I wasn’t going to say anything to you about it, but there are people at Anvard who don’t much like Calormenes. I can’t blame them, really. And I’m the only Calormene around, so…I’m a bit of a target sometimes.”

“Oh, dear. I’m sorry. People can be so stupid. I hope it’s not too bad….”

“No, it’s not so bad. Well, it was hard at first. The king has been doing all he can to help me. Cor has been wonderful, and Lord Shar, and the tutor, Master Din, and the cook, and the grooms. Lord and Lady Dar. A lot of people, really. Even Corin has taken my part. I didn’t know about it until a few days ago, but he’s had some fights with courtiers who called me names. Of course, he loves a good fight, but still, I didn’t expect him to stick up for me. And really, some of the trouble I’ve been having is my own fault. I’ve made plenty of mistakes. The only real trouble I had was with Lord Fard, and King Lune made him leave court after he threatened me. And then…well, I’ll tell you the rest of the story later. But anyway, that’s all been taken care of, and things got a lot better after that.” 

Hwin nuzzled Aravis’s cheek sympathetically. Aravis put an arm around Hwin’s neck. “What’s really hard is that I don’t have a girlfriend. Queen Lucy stayed for a couple of weeks, and then I sort of made friends with Sura, the dressmaker, but after she came back here to Cair Paravel, there was nobody. None of the older girls at court like me.” Suddenly Aravis felt like she might cry. This had been happening a lot lately, and it was very disconcerting. “I’ve missed you so much, Hwin…” she said.

“There, there, little one,” said Hwin. “I’ve missed you, too. I promise I’ll come visit you soon.” They stood there for a few minutes, Aravis leaning against Hwin. 

After a little while they went into the Great Hall, where there was much bustling and preparation—people carrying chairs and musical instruments about and setting up places at table that were clearly intended for persons who were not the same size and shape as human beings (or, as they said here, Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve, which struck Aravis as awfully long-winded). Lucy came over to them and suggested that Aravis go wash up and change for tonight, and she insisted on taking Aravis to the bathhouse herself. Hwin stayed in the hall, since the baths weren’t big enough for her, and besides, she preferred cold water for bathing.

Aravis wished she had time for a good long soak, because the bathhouse at Cair Paravel was much nicer than the one at Anvard, though still primitive compared to what she had grown up with in Calormen. At Anvard the bathhouse was open for bathing only three days a week, and the rest of the time it was the domain of the laundress. Water was heated in a gigantic kettle, and you had to use a smaller kettle to pour it into the bath by hand. On bath days women and children used the baths during the day and men used them in the evening. Aravis had had her own bathroom in Calormen and was unused to communal bathing, so on bath days she got up early enough to bathe before anybody else was there. But at Cair Paravel the bathhouse was open every day, and the water was piped from a boiler directly into the baths. There were separate rooms for females, males, and families, and there were screens in case you wanted privacy. And there was a sauna! Lucy promised Aravis that she could have a good long bath and wash her hair tomorrow; but even a quick bath felt good after a day’s ride.

Lucy then took Aravis up to her room, where they found that one of Lucy’s maids, a slender Birch Woman named Rilla, had just finishing unpacking Aravis’s saddlebag. Lucy thanked the maid and gave her a kiss. People seemed to be even more friendly and informal with servants here than at Anvard—or maybe it was just Lucy. They looked at the dresses Aravis had brought with her and agreed that the green silk was the best choice for tonight. Aravis had never worn it before except when it was being fitted; it was a beautiful dress, but very grown-up, and she felt self-conscious wearing it. Lucy went off to her own rooms to get ready, but Rilla, who said that Lucy had asked her to attend Aravis while she was visiting, stayed to help her dress. Then she asked what Aravis wanted done with her hair. 

“Can’t I just braid it?” asked Aravis. 

“Of course you can if you want to,” said Rilla, “but with this dress I think it would be better to tie it back loosely. You have very pretty hair, and there’s a lot of it. You could show it off a little.” 

Rilla rummaged through a box of hair clasps and jewelry that she had brought with her, trying to find something that would work. Then she did up Aravis’s hair in a loose pony tail secured just at the nape of her neck with a couple of copper rings and a wide ribbon that matched the russet panels in the dress; she somehow managed to fashion these into a very secure clasp, above which Aravis’s hair puffed out in a halo around her face. “There,” Rilla said, “that frames your face very nicely.” But Aravis, staring into the looking glass, saw the same narrow face as always, with the straight, aristocratic features and thick eyebrows that looked imposing on her father but rather out of place on a young girl. She took after her father, and her little brother Rishti took after their mother. Her father had always said that it would have been better the other way around; Rishti had a very sweet face. And I have a nose like the prow of a ship, she thought. Well, there was no point in worrying about how she looked. She thanked Rilla and, after a moment’s hesitation, gave her a quick hug. Rilla smiled as she left. Aravis fidgeted for a few minutes, then drew a deep breath and walked out into the corridor. 

Cor was just emerging from the room next door, also dressed in new finery and looking very irritated. “I wonder if I’ll ever get used to people fussing over me,” he groused. 

“Did they lend you a valet?”

“Two.”

“Oh. Did you try telling them that you don’t like a lot of fuss?”

“No. Do you think that would help?”

“Maybe….Are you feeling all right, Cor?”

“Anxious. I feel like I’m on display. Here’s the Lost Prince: look at him, he’s still a bit skinny, but at least he’s standing up straight, as long as we remind him constantly, and he’s starting to lose that dreadful accent, and my, how he’s grown…”

She laughed. “It’s not so bad. From what Lucy said it sounds like it will be a very lively party, and I don’t think anybody will be checking to see that you’re standing up straight.”

“I hope not,” he said. Then he looked at her perplexedly. “You look different.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not _bad_. You look fine. I mean, you always look fine. But something is different.”

“My hair. And I haven’t worn this dress before.”

“Oh,” he said. “It’s very pretty.”

“Thank you,” she said. At least the dress is pretty, she thought. Then she reminded herself that she wasn’t worried about how she looked.

Corin, hearing them talking in the corridor, came out of his room across the hall just then. He knew his way around the castle, and they went down together.


	2. Court Dances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Banquet at Cair Paravel. Everybody drinks and dances except Shar and Peter, who would really rather not.

There were already many people downstairs, gathering in the Great Hall. There were nymphs, fauns, dwarves, centaurs, and Talking Beasts of all descriptions. Aravis thought that Cair Paravel and its court, though larger and more imposing and in some ways more formal than Anvard, was also wilder and more colorful. She and the twins sat with some friends of Corin’s—a Nereid named Blbl, two Red Dwarves named Kindler and Stibblety, and a faun, Zenus—as well as Hwin and Bree and Rinny. Nobody tried to make them sit in any particular place at table, or talk to the adults about serious things, or follow protocol. At the High King’s table, Aravis saw the three kings—Peter, Edmund, and Lune—talking together. King Edmund had looked like a boy this afternoon, but now he looked like a man. It looked as though they were discussing something very serious. Aravis wondered if it was the Talking Beasts’ petition. The two queens were sitting across from the kings, along with Lord and Lady Peridan, Lucy’s friend Mr. Tumnus, and a couple of dignified centaurs, one male, one female (A centauress? She would have to ask about the proper term.). Shar was not there; she saw him at another table with another group of courtiers.

They ate and drank merrily. There was music. Partway through the evening people began getting up and walking around to other tables to talk to their friends. Many people came over to greet them; Aravis remembered some of them from the days after the Battle of Anvard. Aravis had drunk very little wine before she came to Archenland, since it was not considered proper behavior for women or girls in Calormen, except during certain religious rituals. She usually didn’t drink more than a few sips of wine at Anvard, but now people kept filling her cup, and she realized eventually that if she kept drinking it, they would keep refilling it. The Horses, who didn’t enjoy being inside, especially when it was so noisy, agreed that it was time to depart for the courtyard, where the air was fresher. The music was changing now and she could see sets forming up for the dance. The High King led off the first dance with Queen Susan. Did he ever smile? Corin steadfastly refused to leave his seat, so Cor and Aravis finally left him there and went to join the dance. 

Many of the court dances here were the same as at Anvard, but there was an added wild card in that the dancers were such different sizes and shapes. Most of the dancers were more or less human-shaped; there wasn’t room for centaurs, who were dancing in their own set outside in the courtyard, and the only Talking Beasts dancing were Bears, who could stand up on their hind legs well enough to complete the figures. Still, as you went up the dance, you might have to bend low to take a dwarf’s hand, and then straighten up to turn with a tall dryad. As a result, people made a lot of mistakes, and there was a great deal of laughter. The main point seemed to be to enjoy the dance and the company, not to get all the steps right. The wine was still flowing, and many of the creatures seemed to be feeling its effects. Aravis danced with Cor, and then with a rather bashful faun whose friends had dared him to ask her, and then with someone she was later told was a river god. Her discomfort with giving her hand to strangers seemed to have evaporated. The doors of the great hall were thrown open, and the courtyard became part of the dance floor. Queen Lucy joined the dance, and Corin bestirred himself to dance with her. After a while, the musicians slowed, beginning a pavane, and some of the more boisterous creatures dropped out. Aravis tried to catch her breath. She wondered if they would dance all night.

 

As the focus of the evening turned from food and drink to dancing (and more drink), Shar went upstairs to the gallery overlooking the hall. He leaned his elbows on the railing. Some of the musicians were putting down the flutes and fiddles they had been playing during dinner and picking up drums instead; in a moment the dancing would start, and sets were already forming up. There were a few people in the gallery opposite, but he was the only one on this side. 

He had been watching the dancing for about half an hour—it was now spilling out of the hall into the courtyard—when he heard someone climbing the stairs behind him. Without looking around, Shar knew that it was Peter. He came up to the railing a foot or so to Shar’s right. Did he think that was a safe enough distance? 

After a moment Peter said, “Susan has informed me that many people think it very odd that you and I don’t speak to each other.”

Shar didn’t turn his head. “We do speak. We’re speaking now.”

“I pointed that out. She said we ought to try to be friendlier, you and I.”

“Did you tell her to bugger off?”

“Yes. And then I saw you standing up here and thought we might as well have a talk.”

“What about?”

“We used to be friends.”

Shar said nothing.

“You’re not making this easy,” Peter said, a peevish note creeping into his voice.

“Why should I? You've never made it easy for me.”

Peter sighed. “I know you’re angry.”

“I’m not really angry any more, I’m just tired of this back and forth game we’ve been playing since I came back from the Seven Isles.”

“This isn’t the right time or place to hash it out.”

“Then why did you come up here?”

“I don’t know. I just…wanted to talk to you.”

“Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it? You say you don’t want me, but you can’t leave me alone, either.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Peter said, “I never said that, you know.”

“Eventually you’ll have to decide, Peter.”

“You know I can’t.”

“That’s what you always say. But I warn you, in a decade or two I may give up.”

“I would really like to try to be friends. Or at least friendly. Try to get along, not be so awkward. Look each other in the eye without both of us putting on our great grim stone faces.”

“All right. Let’s give it a try.” Shar turned his head and they stared at each other for a moment. Peter looked away. “Well, this ought to be quite easy,” said Shar, turning away again.

“There’s no need to be so sarcastic. I didn’t say it would be easy, I just said I’d like to try.”

“Fine. We’ll practice looking at each other and talking without making faces. The first one to flinch or look away buys the next round.”

“What next round?”

“An excellent question! We may have to go out and find a tavern expressly for that purpose,” Shar said. Peter laughed. “Good lord,” said Shar, turning again, “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh in…years.” 

“Oh, that can’t be! We’ve been at plenty of the same banquets during the last two years. I don’t just sit there like a stone, you know.”

“No, I suppose not. Perhaps it’s just the first time in a while you’ve laughed at something I said.”

“And now you’ve made me self-conscious. If you want me to laugh at your jokes, you oughtn’t to point it out every time I do.”

“Sorry.”

They stood there for a while in silence. “Well,” said Peter, “Do you want to stay up here and watch the dancing, or go down? I really ought to go down myself; people expect me to play the host.”

“Is that the hardest part of being the High King?”

“Yes, by far. I let Edmund do as much of it as possible. He’s a lot better at it.”

“Well, where is he now?”

“Last I saw he was dancing,” said Peter.

Shar looked around the hall. The musicians were playing a pavane. “Blast!” he said. “He’s dancing with Aravis.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Oh…she’s a little sweet on him. Nothing serious, I think, but it’s so hard to tell with her. He really oughtn’t to encourage it.”

“She’ll have to join the multitudes.”

“No, I think it would be better to nip it in the bud. Look at him…making himself so very charming...He ought to know better, damn him. We’d probably best go down.” He sighed. “I may even have to dance myself,” he added gloomily.

“I can give you a list of ladies it’s safe to dance with. You’d be surprised how many nymphs are interested only in other nymphs…”

“Good lord, Peter, are you making a joke?”

“I’m not as humorless as you like to pretend. But in this case I’m quite serious. I have a comprehensive compendium of ladies who can be counted upon not to flirt. And you can always dance with Lucy and Susan, they’re both quite safe. I can’t dance with either of them more than once in an evening, people think it odd, but if you dance with them—”

“People will talk. They might even dig up that old rumor about me and Susan.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true.” Peter grimaced. “Gossip! I’d rather fight giants…”

They went downstairs together and parted amicably enough, Peter to talk to some courtiers, Shar to distract Aravis. By the time he found her she was dancing with Cor, and Edmund was nowhere to be seen, so he decided to let well enough alone. He danced one dance each with Susan and Lucy and then went back upstairs to the gallery. He watched the dancing, and he watched Peter circulating around the hall, being the High King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have based Narnian and Archenlandish court dances mainly on English country dancing and contradancing. In these dances, each person has a partner, but the couples dance in sets. It's very social.
> 
> Poor Shar. At this point he's been pining after Peter for _seven years_. Good thing he's a patient man.


	3. What Is It About Your Family?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shar and Edmund have a talk. Cor and Corin have a fight.

In the morning, when Shar came into the Great Hall for breakfast, he found Edmund sitting with Cor and Aravis. Edmund and Aravis were talking animatedly, and Cor was silently eating his breakfast and yawning. Shar cursed under his breath and after filling his plate he went to join them. They all greeted him in friendly fashion; Cor seemed especially pleased to see him. 

“Where’s Corin?” Shar asked.

“Not up yet,” said Cor.

“He drank a lot of wine last night,” said Aravis, virtuously.

“I expect you drank your share, as well,” Shar said. He grinned at her, but she looked irritated and didn’t reply.

They talked for a while, and then Cor suggested to Aravis that they go out to see Bree and Hwin. Aravis hesitated for a moment and then agreed, and they departed together.

Edmund was about to leave, too, but as he stood, Shar said “Not so fast.”

“What have I done now?” Edmund asked, sitting down again.

“That’s what I want to know. Or rather, what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”

“Why are you paying so much attention to Aravis?”

“I’m not!”

“Yes you are. _And_ you’re flirting with her.”

“Oh good lord, Shar, she’s not even nubile! I have _never_ gone after young girls. Of all the things I’ve been accused of, and I’ve been accused of many, that has never been one of them, and you know it!”

“Well then, why are you spending so much time with her?”

“I like her! She’s intelligent and interesting. If I’d known some of what she’s told me about regional politics in Calormen, I'd have done things very differently the last couple of years. Honestly, you’re as bad as Peter. Any time I look at a woman—or in this case, a girl—he thinks I have designs on her. No female is safe with me, apparently.” Edmund was now looking quite nettled.

“Very well, your interest is only friendly. But she’s sweet on you, and you ought not to encourage it.”

“Oh, come now, she’s only twelve years old!”

“Her father nearly married her to a man of sixty.”

“Sixty? I don’t think I’d heard that particular detail.” Edmund grimaced. “No wonder she ran away.”

“Yes. In fact, I think you must have met her betrothed in Tashbaan. He’s the Grand Vizier.”

Edmund was horrified. “Ahoshta? Her father was going to marry her to _Ahoshta_?”

“I take it you disapprove…”

“I may be sick. The man is vile! I could hardly bear to be in the same room with him—I convinced Tumnus go to dinner with him and send my regrets. His…person is awful enough, but his soul is far worse….”

“I see. But getting back to Aravis, you may not think she’s nubile, but it seems her father disagreed.”

Edmund considered for a moment. “Even for a tarkeena, twelve is awfully young to be married.”

“But not too young to have a pash for someone exotic, and rather dashing, who’s been paying a lot of attention to her…”

“She doesn’t act particularly smitten,” Edmund objected.

“She has a lot of self-control, and she’s not very expressive. But I’ve got to know her pretty well in the past couple of months, and it’s obvious to me that she finds you interesting. She brings you up from time to time and then looks as if she wishes she hadn’t. A few weeks ago she told me she thought you were very good-looking, but she did it in a roundabout way, as though she was trying to disguise what she was saying. And she was very flustered when you kissed her hand yesterday.”

“I didn’t actually kiss it. I know better than _that_.”

“I suppose we must be grateful for small mercies…”

“Oh, don’t be a pig.”

“I can’t help it when you’re behaving this stupidly. Usually you’re smarter than this, Edmund, but I think in this case your ego has got the better of you. You accept her admiration as your due.”

Edmund sighed and leaned back in his chair and said archly, “I’m not certain why I allow you to talk to me like this, my lord Shar. I am a king after all…”

“You’re not _my_ king. And I knew you when you were 11 years old and far from impressive,” Shar pointed out. 

“That must've been around the same time you and Peter were having such fun playing tricks on me…”

“Don’t try to change the subject. We’re talking about Aravis. She doesn’t understand how flirtation and courtship work here, you know,” Shar said. “From what she’s told me, in Calormen unmarried girls of her rank barely have any contact with men they aren’t related to.”

“That’s true. Tarkheenas only flirt after they’re married, and then they put the coquettes here to shame…”

“Do they?”

“Yes, the first time I went to a party in Tashbaan, I was shocked at how brazen they were. But apparently it’s all a sort of performance, and they don’t mean anything serious by it.” He grinned. “Well, _most_ of them don’t…Peridan and I were waylaid by two tarkheenas one afternoon at a river party—” 

“Please, I don’t want to know…”

“Sorry. I hate to offend your delicate sensibilities….Needless to say, we behaved like perfect gentlemen.”

Shar snorted. “Considering how most gentlemen behave, that’s not very reassuring…In any case, Aravis doesn’t know how to interpret people’s behavior here. And you know how she is about touching. At home she’ll only dance with a few people—me, my uncle, and Cor. And the dancing master, Pol.”

“What about Corin?”

“He won’t dance with anybody but Lucy. Speaking of pashes. What _is_ it about your family?”

“Well, I can assure you that Lucy doesn’t do anything to encourage it.”

“No, that’s true.” Shar yawned. “I don’t know, perhaps I’m just worrying too much about all three of them. For some reason they’ve all decided to make me into a confidante. Aravis says I remind her of her older brother, and the twins—well, for all practical purposes I _am_ their older brother.”

“I have an older brother, and I never confide in him if I can help it,” Edmund pointed out.

“Perhaps I’m more like a favorite uncle, then. But whatever I am, I spend an enormous amount of time patching up quarrels, listening to their troubles….It’s exhausting.”

“Are there really that many quarrels?”

Shar shrugged. “The boys fight about as much as you’d expect two boys to fight, when one of them is Corin. That’s not too bad, it’s over quickly and usually they make it up on their own. Corin always wins in a fistfight, of course—”

“How does Cor handle that?”

“Surprisingly well. Apparently being beaten up by Corin isn’t at all the same thing as being beaten up by that fisherman who raised him….In any case, he gets back at Corin in more subtle ways. He’s good at needling Corin, picking at his weaknesses, but without actually doing anything that Corin could reasonably be angry about.”

“Hmm. Student of human nature, perhaps? I suppose that goes with his upbringing, as well…”

“Possibly. Cor and Aravis get along well most of the time, but they’ve had a couple of spectacular arguments. The worst one nearly shook the castle down. It took a few days for them to make it up, and until they did we were all on tenterhooks. The real problem is Corin and Aravis. They snipe at each other constantly—they’re like oil and water. Aravis thinks Corin’s obnoxious and irresponsible and spoiled, and Corin thinks Aravis is arrogant and humorless and spoiled, and neither of them is wrong…" He sighed. "...And they both want to be first with Cor. They compete for his attention. Meanwhile, he considers both of them to be his best friends and doesn’t understand why they can’t get on. Then they all come to me for advice. Sometimes all three of them in one afternoon! And not just about each other. I’m dreading the day when the twins start being interested in girls.”

“Isn’t Aravis a girl?”

“I don’t think either of them sees her that way. Possibly in a year or two…good lord…” He paused for a moment, then groaned. “Edmund, _why_ did you have to put that idea into my head? It’s bad enough now, managing the three of them.”

“Sorry. I can’t believe it hadn’t occurred to you before this.”

“Must’ve been a blind spot, due to sheer terror. I think I’ll continue to avoid thinking about it unless it becomes necessary….In any case, when the twins come to me with questions about girls, I’m planning to refer them to Dar. I certainly don’t have anything useful to tell them. And my uncle is too straight-laced to be much help.”

“What about Corin’s little pash for Lucy?”

“That doesn’t worry me. It’s not as though anything could come of it. But eventually he’s going to fancy some girl who might actually be interested…”

“What a thought! Considering how impetuous he can be, it could be dire….”

“Yes. Imagine a world peopled with Corin’s little bastards…” Shar said gloomily.

“Well, we can try to knock some sense into him, if necessary.” 

“If? Oh no, of this we can be certain. But Cor will have the opposite problem. In a couple of years all the girls at Anvard will be after him, and he won’t know what to do, even if he’s interested. He hates being fussed over.”

“Are they really that different?”

“Night and day. It’s extraordinary. They’re identical twins, but under the skin they’re nothing alike. It amazes me that anybody ever confuses them.”

“Well, once you see them side by side, it’s obvious. And once they open their mouths—you know, after I met Cor at Anvard I tried to remember if he’d actually said anything when he was with us that afternoon in Tashbaan. I don’t think he can have, because if he had, his accent would have given him away immediately.”

“Yes. Lord, I’ll be glad when that’s gone…”

“You don’t like it? I think it’s rather musical.”

“You don’t hear it as much as I do. But what I don’t understand is why he and Aravis sound so different.”

“He must have some sort of regional peasant accent. Aravis sounds like every other tarkaan and tarkheena I’ve met—no matter where they come from, they all have that same posh accent.”

“Posh? What’s that mean?”

“Oh, it means…sort of…elegant and upper class, but also…putting on airs, snooty. I don’t know….It’s a hard word to define.”

“No, I get the idea. I’ll add it to my list! I used to collect expressions like that from Peter.”

“Have you spoken to him much lately?”

Shar looked up. Edmund was examining his coffee and didn’t appear to want to meet his eye.

“Oh, now you're taking an interest,” Shar said. “I get enough of that sort of thing from Susan….”

“Sorry. I don’t even…know what really happened between you. Why you quarreled.”

“That makes two of us.” He paused. “Listen, no offense, but I’d rather not discuss that with you.”

“No, it’s all right.” Edmund said. On the whole, he appeared relieved.

“Besides, as I keep reminding you, I came here to talk to you about Aravis.”

“Well, what do you want me to do? If I suddenly started acting distant and reserved she’d probably be hurt.”

“I know. I suppose if you could just…tone it down. But gradually.”

“I’ll try.”

“Thanks. And…there’s just one other thing. I suppose I ought to have brought this up first, but there’s something I was wondering if you would talk to her about.”

“Now you _want_ me to talk to her? Good lord, man, make up your mind!”

Shar, who had not brought this up until now because he suspected it would end the conversation, sighed. “You know about her role in getting the news to us at Anvard? That she overheard the plans and immediately realized that we needed to be warned?”

“Yes, of course.”

“At the time, it was so obviously the right thing to do—by her lights, as well as ours. She was brought up with very strict ideas of honor, even toward one’s enemies, and so forth. But she’s been brooding about it a lot, because I think once the whole thing was over she started worrying about how people in Calormen—especially her father—would see it. And she knew some of the tarkaans who were in the battle, including two that got killed. One of them was Ilgamuth—I think he must have been quite a close friend of her family.”

“Ilgamuth? The one with the lip?”

“Yes. Ugly as sin, but she says he was a good man—kind and funny. So, she feels that she betrayed them, even though she knows that she did the right thing, that she was being loyal to a...a higher principle. And she knows that she helped prevent a great deal of bloodshed. But she also can’t help but see that in Calormen, she’d be considered a traitor.”

Edmund was silent for a moment. Then he said grimly, “I see. My area of expertise….Well, I suppose telling her about that might be one way to put an end to this pash of hers….”

Shar shrugged. “A lot of girls might think it made you more interesting.”

“But not Aravis.”

“No, you’re probably right. Not Aravis.”

“Well, then, we kill two birds with one stone.”

“Maybe so.”

“I’d be in a much better mood right now if I’d got up and left the moment you sat down,” said Edmund, sourly.

“Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s all right. I see now that you had to talk to me. I suppose I ought to try to talk with Aravis today. No sense letting the grass grow under my feet. Excuse me…” And Edmund got up and departed. Shar thought Edmund looked as if he wasn’t certain where he was going, other than away.

 

Shar didn’t like to let more than a day or two go by without training, so around noon he went out to the training ground to see if there was anybody who would spar with him. To his surprise, Cor was there, doing some exercises. “I thought you and Aravis went to see Bree and Hwin,” Shar said. 

“We did, for a while. But Bree and Rinny are going to visit Rinny’s mother this afternoon, and Hwin wasn’t even there—she was with some delegation petitioning King Peter and my father about going after slavers that are trading in Talking Beasts. Did you know about that?”

“Yes, Edmund said something about it last night.”

“It seems like something we ought to do. I hope my father agrees….”

“Cor, if you think so, you really ought to tell him. You’re his heir, and eventually you’ll be the one making decisions about things like this. He’d probably be pleased if you took an interest.”

Cor nodded noncommittally. “Yes, I suppose so. Anyway, when Aravis found out Hwin wasn’t going to be there she decided to go have another bath. I thought I might as well get some practice in.”

“I’m glad to see you’re thinking that way. I’m going to see if I can find someone to spar with, but when I’m finished I can coach you for a bit.”

“All right. I tried to get Corin to come out, too, but he says he has a headache.”

“I’m not surprised.”

 

Later in the afternoon, Corin went out to the training ground looking for Cor. He saw that Cor was just finishing his practice and waited until Shar was out of sight so he wouldn’t get captured and made to do some work himself. For one thing, his headache wasn’t quite gone. 

Cor was behind the stable with his head under the pump, cooling off. When he saw Corin he splashed some water at him. “Do you know where Aravis is?” he asked.

“She went riding with King Edmund,” Corin said.

“Oh,” said Cor.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

Corin looked at his brother incredulously. “You are, aren’t you! I’d convinced myself I was imagining it…”

“What are you talking about?” 

“You’re sweet on Aravis. You are! And you’re jealous!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Cor, who was starting to blush. 

“You don’t have to worry about the king, you know. I hear he likes older women.”

“Will you shut up?”

“She’s not even pretty,” said Corin. Cor glared at him, angry and embarrassed. He didn’t like Corin saying that Aravis wasn’t pretty, but he couldn’t very well object without admitting to being sweet on her. Corin grinned, knowing he had scored a point.

Cor straightened up and faced his brother. “You’re the one who’s making a fool of himself,” he said quietly. “Following Queen Lucy around like a little puppy dog…”

Corin’s grin disappeared. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m giving you a chance to take it back.”

“Are you asking me to lie? The only reason she hasn’t told you to leave her be is that she’s too nice! You’ll probably—Ow!”

There was a short scuffle, and within a minute Cor was on his back in the dirt, with Corin holding him down, demanding, “Take it back!” 

“Not on your life!” said Cor. Corin punched him in the stomach; a light punch, by Corin’s standards.

Shar, who rounded the corner of the armory in time to see this, ran over and grabbed Corin by his collar, pulling him off his brother. “Are you all right?” he asked Cor. Cor nodded, breathless. 

Shar was keeping a firm grip on Corin. “Take what back?” he asked. Both boys looked alarmed. 

Cor, who was now able to speak, said, “It’s nothing important.”

“Then it’s not worth fighting over,” Shar said. He shook Corin a little. “What is wrong with you two? We’re guests here! You can’t brawl like you do at home.” Corin opened his mouth, but Shar interrupted him. “Give me one good reason I oughtn’t to send you both back to Anvard tomorrow, instead of letting you go up to the western woods for the Summer Festival!”

“Oh, but then you’d have to miss the festival,” said Cor. “That wouldn’t be fair to you.”

Shar looked at him, irritated. Lune, knowing that he would be busy with affairs of state, had charged Shar with looking after the boys during their visit. If the boys went back to Anvard, he would have to go with them. He sighed. “Very clever. That’s the best reason I can think of, myself,” he said. “Get cleaned up, and then go up to your rooms. You’re going to miss supper tonight, at the very least.” The boys glumly started to wash up. They were both very dusty, and Cor’s hair, which had been wet, was now muddy, so it took a while. Shar supervised, then sent them to their rooms. They walked upstairs silently. “At least he didn’t make us shake hands,” Cor said as he opened his door. Across the hall Corin made a rude gesture and slammed his door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One reason Edmund is so adamant about never having gone after young girls is that he's feeling a wee bit anxious about what happened (or rather, didn't quite happen) at the river party.
> 
> When I decided that Cor ought to have a "dreadful" accent, at first I thought it might not be consistent with the book because the Narnians would have noticed it when they mistook him for Corin in Tashbaan. But it turns out that he's almost completely mute during that whole episode. He knows that anything he says is likely to give him away, so he says nothing. The only time he speaks is to stammer "I--I don't know."


	4. Food For Thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cor and Corin get supper after all. Cor and Aravis discuss loyalty and betrayal. Edmund would rather think about almost anything else.

Supper was a quieter affair than the previous evening. There were fewer guests and less carousing. Many had already left for the Summer Festival, and everybody who was leaving tomorrow would need to be up early in the morning to ride to the western woods by nightfall.

Shar and Edmund sat together. “Did you talk to her?” Shar asked.

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And I think we’re going to be good friends. Your main worries are at least on the way to being resolved.” Shar looked as though he were about to ask another question, so Edmund added “But it was a private conversation. She’ll probably tell you about some of it herself, but I’m not going to try to sort out what was in confidence and what wasn’t.”

Shar nodded.

A little while later Aravis came up and asked Shar where Cor and Corin were. 

“They got into a fight this afternoon, and I sent them up to their rooms.”

“Without supper?” she said.

Shar shrugged. “It’s traditional,” he said. 

“I know, but…Cor is always so hungry. And you know Arsheesh used to starve him sometimes.”

Shar looked at her in consternation. “Blast, I’d forgotten about that,” he said. “Maybe we’d better send something up to him.”

“If you do, you’ll have to send it up to both of them,” Edmund said.

“I suppose so. Of course, Corin was probably the more responsible. He was pounding Cor when I got there.”

“Even so. Take it from me, anything that appears to favor one brother over the other is a bad idea….”

“I’ll go ask someone to send up their supper,” said Aravis.

A few minutes later, Shar saw Aravis and a servant, each carrying a tray, leaving the hall and heading in the direction of the guest wing. Shar shook his head. “Aravis is carrying a tray. Do you know how remarkable that is? A couple of months ago I don’t know if it even would have occurred to her to do it. She grew up despising servants and being waited on hand and foot…”

Edmund nodded. “She’s very fond of Cor,” he said. Shar looked at him sharply, but Edmund just shrugged.

 

Aravis knocked on Cor’s door. “It’s me,” she said. “I brought you some supper.” The door opened in short order. Cor grinned and took the tray from her.

“Thanks! But I’m not sure if I’m allowed to have visitors,” he said. “I’m under arrest.”

“I asked Shar first. Corin’s getting something, too.” She came in, shutting the door behind her, and sat down at a little table. Cor put his tray on the table and sat down opposite her. “Go ahead and eat,” she said. “I’ve had supper already.” He attacked his supper, but after a couple of minutes he slowed down enough to be able to converse.

“What did you do this afternoon?” he asked.

“Oh. I went for a ride. With the king. King Edmund, I mean.”

Cor nodded. “That’s what Corin said. Where did you go?”

“Up the coast a bit. There’s a place on the headland where there’s a good view, in all directions. It’s beautiful up there. You and I must go some time—maybe next time we come up here.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” 

“Shar asked him to talk to me about something,” Aravis said.

Cor looked up. “Oh? What about?” 

“Well…mostly about what happened when they first came here. What he did.”

“Oh. I’ve heard something about that. That he was a traitor. But I don’t really believe it.”

“But it’s true. He told me.”

“Oh.” 

“Shar wanted him to talk to me because I’ve been worrying about betraying my people.”

“Yes, I know. You’re not a traitor, Aravis.”

“I think I did right, but that’s not the same thing as not being a traitor,” she said. “I’ve thought about it a lot, and if I had it to do again, I wouldn’t do anything differently. But to do right, I betrayed my country.”

“Did the king agree with you?”

“Yes. But he said that some things don’t deserve loyalty, and that I would have to decide what was worth being loyal to, and what wasn’t. And that I might have to learn to live with divided loyalties. He said in a way that’s true for him. He feels guilty sometimes about not wanting to go back to the place they all came from. They were in a war, a bad one, when they left. It sounds…really awful. Worse than we can imagine. Fire raining down from the skies, all sorts of terrible machines for killing people…That was a long time ago—ten years. When they left he was a child, but now that he’s old enough to fight he sometimes thinks he ought to go back, that he might be needed there. And he might have to go, but because of the way they came here, he probably can’t choose when or how. He doesn’t even know if their war is still going on. But he said no matter how long he stays here, he’s still an Inglissman.”

“A what?”

“Inglissman. Or something like that. And then he said that he’s done everything he could think of to atone for what he did when they came here, but that he knows that he can never make it right, that people died because of what he did, and he can’t change that. But he said that _trying_ to make it right, even if he could never really do it, was better than just stewing over it. So he said that I would have to decide what exactly I need to atone for—and then do something about it, not just feel guilty.”

“What could you do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe when I grow up there would be things I could do to…well, make things better, between Archenland and Calormen. Be a diplomat or something. But that’s a little far-fetched, I suppose. Especially when I can’t take the risk of my father finding out where I am. Or I could help Hwin with her anti-slavery work. That’s probably more realistic. I’m sure there are things I could do.”

He nodded. “Well, you have plenty of time to think of something,” he said.

“I suppose so…But…”

“What?”

“Well, I was wondering…don’t you have any feelings of loyalty to Calormen?”

“No.”

“But why not? I know you’re not a Calormene, but you grew up thinking you were one.”

Cor shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t have a lot of reason to feel loyal, I suppose. There are things I miss, sometimes. Not very many. But…loyalty wasn’t something I thought much about until I came here. Arsheesh didn’t care about the empire, he just cared about getting by. If that meant pretending to be loyal or respectful or whatever, that’s what he did. But it wasn’t real.”

“Oh.” 

“It’s funny…”

“What?”

“I was just thinking that Arsheesh used to tell me stories—sometimes, in the evening, when he wasn’t too tired. Not like the way you tell them, but they were good stories. Some of them were funny. And some of them were about gods and demons and heroes. The world in the stories always seemed a lot realer to me than the world I was living in…and I just realized, that’s probably where I got a lot of ideas about things like honesty and courage and all that. From stories where a poor boy becomes a hero because he’s good and true and clever. It’s hard to understand how he could tell me those stories and make them seem real to me, when he didn’t care about things like that himself.”

“Maybe they were just stories to him. People are so hard to understand sometimes…”

Cor nodded. “You’d probably better go down again,” he said, after a moment. “I’m supposed to be in disgrace.”

“Oh. All right. See you in the morning.”

“Thanks for the supper.”

Aravis went back down to the hall, but very little was going on, so she went up to her own room again. She undressed and lay down on the bed, but it took a while for her to fall asleep. She wondered what to make of what King Edmund had told her, and also what had prompted some of the questions he had asked her. When they were talking about the meaning of betrayal, she had started to tell him how betrayed she had felt by her father, who had always promised her that he wouldn’t make a marriage contract for her until she was at least 14, and that he wouldn’t make her marry someone she didn’t like. She had thought for a long time that he meant to marry her to Ilgamuth, who was a distant cousin and a friend of the family, and whom she knew well and liked. And he wasn’t too awfully old, only about 30. (“Did you want to marry him?” the king had asked. And she had said, “No. I didn’t want to marry anybody. But I wouldn’t have run away.”) And then suddenly, out of the blue, without even telling her, her father had promised her to Ahoshta. When she said this, King Edmund started asking a lot of questions about her father and his politics, his friends, his allies. She wondered why he was so interested. Eventually he seemed to realize that she found it odd and he changed the subject. In any case, he had given her a lot to think about.

 

Edmund was thinking about their conversation, too. The timing of Aravis’s betrothal to Ahoshta suggested to him an interesting possibility: that Kidrash Tarkaan had known about the Dardenbaan Cabal’s planned coup. His promising Aravis to the Grand Vizier seemed out of character given what Aravis had said about him today, but it made more sense if Kidrash had believed that his daughter would soon be a widow. He must also have expected the plot as a whole to fail, since if the coup had succeeded, anybody closely connected to the present regime would have been in grave danger. Edmund, who had known of the plot for months and learned a great deal more about it while he was in Tashbaan, had come to the same conclusion. The coup—which was to have included the murders of the Tisroc, Rabadash, Ahoshta, two of the Tisroc’s younger sons, and a number of key tarkaans, generals, government officials, and priests—was complex and ambitious and would require meticulous planning and coordination to succeed. He didn’t think the Cabal was capable of pulling it off. Edmund’s only question had been whether to inform the Tisroc of what he knew, or to let events play out without interfering. Of course, that was all moot now, since two key players in the plot, men who had wormed their way into Rabadash's inner circle, had been killed at the Battle of Anvard. Without them, the plan was impossible, and Edmund was certain it had been scuttled, at least for the moment. It might be years, or never, before they made their move.

At any rate, Edmund now surmised that Kidrash had been banking on failure of the plot, but the success of that one assassination—indeed, if Aravis had been married to Ahoshta she would have been in a position to ensure its success. But to what end, exactly? Merely to make his daughter a wealthy widow? That seemed unlikely. Edmund had not heard Kidrash Tarkaan’s name mentioned in connection with the plot while he was in Tashbaan gathering information; he had barely been aware of the man's existence, despite the fact that he was lord of a major province of the empire. Edmund had assumed until now that Kidrash simply wasn’t interested in politics. But now it seemed more likely that he preferred to operate behind the scenes. Edmund wondered what kind of power the father of the widow of an assassinated Grand Vizier would be in a position to acquire. By the time Kidrash came to Tashbaan looking for Aravis, Edmund had been distracted by the problem of getting out of the city before Rabadash made a move against them. Even if it had not been so, there would have been no particular reason for them to meet. But he now found himself wanting to talk to the man. No use brooding about it, though. It would be a long time before diplomatic relations were restored, and even then it might never again be possible for Edmund to travel to Calormen. 

Still, he preferred thinking about politics to thinking about the rest of the conversation. As time went on he sometimes thought perhaps the old wound was starting to heal, or at least to scar over; but talking frankly about what he had done made him realize once again that he was still struggling with self-doubt. Right now he wanted nothing more than to have a drink, but unlike Peter, he didn’t keep a bottle of brandy in his room, because (unlike Peter) he was sometimes tempted, as he was tonight, to quietly drink himself into oblivion. The added complication of having to go downstairs to find a bottle was enough to remind him that he had a long ride tomorrow and didn’t want to do it with a hangover. Well, there would be plenty of opportunity to drink all he wanted—and to console himself in other ways—during the Festival.


	5. Festival Dances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody except Peter goes to the festival. The queens kick off their shoes and let their hair down. Edmund enjoys the company of nymphs. Aravis gets drunk and confides in Shasta, because nobody should have to be a perfect little lady all the time.

Early in the morning a large party left Cair Paravel, traveling northwest by the banks of the Great River. King Peter stayed at Cair Paravel. Someone told Aravis that he hadn’t been to the Summer Festival in years, and besides, the kings and queens usually liked to arrange things so that at least one of them was at the castle. 

The way was broad enough that people moved about in the train, riding first with one friend, then with another. Aravis and the twins rode together for most of the morning, with Cor in the middle, as usual. Neither of the twins felt any desire to discuss yesterday’s altercation; both thought that the less said about it, the better. After they stopped for lunch Aravis continued on with Lucy. 

A little while later, Edmund joined the twins. “It’s just occurred to me that I ought to warn you about something,” he said. “When nymphs are at home, they wear less than they do when they come to Cair Paravel.”

The twins looked at each other. “How much less?” asked Cor.

“Well, most of them wear just a short tunic.”

“How short?”

“Knee length, usually. And sleeveless.”

“Oh.”

“And they don’t wear anything much underneath it.”

“Really, Edmund? And how do you know _that_?” asked Queen Susan, who had just ridden up beside him.

“I have eyes,” he said airily.

She raised her eyebrows. “Yes, and so do the boys.” She turned to the twins, both of whom were now red in the face. “It’s all right to look, just try not to stare, all right?”

“What’s the difference between looking and staring?” Cor whispered to Corin.

“I’ve no idea.”

By the time they reached the woods west of Beaversdam it was dark and everybody was tired. The bonfires had been lit, and fauns and satyrs and nymphs came to greet them. Some of the nymphs were wearing even less than King Edmund had described. The dancing had already started, but first they were urged to rest and eat and drink. There were tents already set up for them, scattered here and there in the woods. The twins had their own tent, and Aravis was to share with the queens. 

It seemed that there would be plenty of time for dancing—the festival lasted for a week—so the children decided to sit by the fire and watch the gathering. There were several bonfires, and groups of people were sitting around them, eating, talking, and singing. In the open spaces roundabout there were rings of people dancing, mostly fauns, who never seemed to tire of it. The wine was flowing again, and Cor warned Corin to quit drinking it if he didn’t want another headache. “Oh all right,” said Corin, “No more for me tonight.” He handed his wineskin to Aravis, who was doggedly trying to drain the last few drops from her own. Corin stretched out next to the fire, lying back on his elbows and surveying the scene.

“The grown-ups are acting funny,” he commented.

“They’ve been drinking, too,” said Cor. 

“But it’s not just that. Look at the queens—I’ve never known either of them to drink very much.”

“Where are they?” asked Cor. 

“Over there, dancing.”

Though the light was dim, Cor saw what his brother meant. The two queens were dancing with the fauns; both of them had taken off their shoes and stockings, and enough of their outer clothes that they weren’t wearing all that much more than some of the nymphs, though they were not showing as much leg. They were disheveled and laughing. Queen Susan usually looked so cool and perfect, but now her hair was coming down, and she kept pushing it out of her face. Just then she called out “Lucy, come tie my hair up, will you?” Her sister came over, gathered her hair back into a rough mare’s tail, and tied it up with a leather thong provided by one of the dryads. Then they both joined the dance again.

“Look at your father,” said Aravis. King Lune was sitting with a group of revelers at a nearby bonfire.

“Who’s that sitting with him?” Corin asked, suspiciously.

“I don’t know, but she’s being _awwww_ fully friendly,” said Aravis. She took a swig from the wineskin. 

The unknown nymph had put a hand on the king’s knee. A moment later, to the boys’ relief, Lune smiled, gently patted her hand, and removed it from his knee. “Very nicely done,” said Aravis, nodding sagely. “Very politic. He must have _lots_ of practice turning girls down—she doesn’t seem upset at all! He probably said something flatterering, like,” and here she deepened her voice, “ ‘my dear, you’re much too pretty for an old fellow like me…’ ” She laughed. “Or _may_ be he said ‘Not right now, my boys are watching us. I’ll meet you by the big oak in half an hour.’ ” 

Corin looked at her, shocked. She laughed and swayed to the side. For a moment it looked as though she might topple over. She straightened up and drank again from the wineskin.

“You’re joking,” Corin said, uncertainly. 

“Well, yeeeees, I am…But there’s obvously—I mean ob-vi-ous-ly—something of that sort of things going on. Look over there.” She gestured to another, smaller bonfire, a little farther away. It was too dark to see properly, but a man was lying on his back with his head in resting in a nymph’s lap. She was feeding him something—probably grapes—and ruffling his hair.

“Is that King Edmund?” Cor asked.

“I think so,” Aravis said, and she started to giggle.

“Aravis, are you giggling?” Corin asked. “I didn’t know you could do that. You sound like a girl!” But she was now having a fit of giggles and was too breathless to answer. She flopped down onto the ground.

“Aravis, how much wine have you had?” Cor asked.

She was still giggling, but she managed to say, “I don’t know. I lost track….”

“You’ll have a headache tomorrow. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” said Corin.

“Oh well…I can’t be a perfect little lady _all_ the time,” she said thoughtfully. “How can I make mistakes and learn from them if I never make any mistakes? Am I mistaking sense?” She giggled. “Get it?”

“You ought to get drunk more often,” said Corin. “You’re a lot more fun like this.”

“Well maybe I don’t _want_ you to think I’m fun,” she said. “Did you ever think of that? I know what his highness, Prince Corin of Archenland thinks of _me. He_ thinks I have no sense of humor. Well! You can tell Prince Archen—Prince Corinland—oh bother! You can tell his highness Prince Corin that I _do_ have a sense of humor. I just don’t think that his highness Prince Corin is as funny as he seems to think he his….I mean as he himself thinks he himself is….Do I make myself clear?”

Corin, who was laughing, wagged his head. 

“And,” she continued, “I _do_ make jokes, but his highness Prince _Corin_ doesn’t always under _stand_ them…” She sighed wearily. “He’s just not very sophistikitated, I’m afraid.”

“Aravis,” said Corin, “I was wrong. You are very, very funny. I had no idea how funny you could be!”

Cor was laughing, too, but he wasn’t sure he liked seeing Aravis like this. He knew she would be angry at herself in the morning.

Aravis closed her eyes and lay there feeling very warm and comfortable. Her head was spinning a little bit, but it wasn’t unpleasant. She was pleased to find that it didn’t bother her at all to think that King Edmund might be out there somewhere, canoodling with a dryad. The boys were talking, but she didn’t listen closely to what they were saying. After a while it was quiet. She opened her eyes. There was only one boy sitting next to her, staring into the fire.

“Where did his highness Prince Corin go?” she mumbled.

“Well, we thought maybe it was time for you to go to bed, so he went to find Queen Lucy.”

“Oh. That’s properly a good idea.” The boy sitting next to her sat back a little and looked at her. She closed her eyes again. “Shasta?” she said.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry I was so mean to you, Shasta.”

He was silent for a moment. “Who’s Shasta?” he asked.

For a moment she was confused. Then she remembered: there were three boys, not two. They all looked rather alike, but she had no trouble telling them apart. “Oh, he’s a boy I used to know,” she said. “He’s very nice. But he’s went away now….” She yawned. “I’m so sleepy…You know, at first I didn’t like him very much at all. He was grubby and common. And then for a while I didn’t like him because he made me wonder if I was being _wrong_ about a lot of things and I didn’t like that very much because I don’t _like_ being wrong and he made me think that I _was_. But then I started wanting him to like me, but I wasn’t sure if he ever _would_ because of that I was so mean to him….Does that make sense?”

“Sort of.”

“Anyway, he’s gone now. And now you’re Cor. Cor is nice, too.”

“Which one do you like better?”

She considered this. “I’m not sure. I don’t know Cor very well yet. Nobody does, not even Cor.” She giggled. “Cor is better looking,” she said confidingly. “He’s taller and not so skinny, and he’s a _lot_ cleaner. Much more prent….pre-sent-a-ble…”

The boy gave a snort of laughter. “Not at the moment, he isn’t,” he said.

“Well, none of us are…is…are…Which is it?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“Hmph. Well, nobody is…nobody _is_ at the _moment_ right now. I just had a bath just yesterday _and_ this morning, and look at me!”

The boy laughed again. “I didn’t like Lady Aravis at first, either,” he said. “But it was mostly because I knew she didn’t like me, and I wanted her to. And I was embarrassed, because she knew so many things I didn’t know, and she rode so well. And she was brave, and she always knew what to do. I didn’t think I’d ever be good enough to be her friend.”

“That’s just silly,” she said. “Of course you are. And the next time I see her, I’ll tell you so!”

“Thanks.”

“You’re very very _very_ very welcome.”

“What about Corin? What do you think of him?”

“He’s ob—ob-nob—bother!—ob- _nok_ -shus,” she said. “But he’s not as bad as I thought at first in the beginning. He’s all right. But I don’t think I’ll ever like him as much as I like Cor. Who I like very much. Whom. Did I say that already?”

“Sort of.”

“Who have I been talking to, anyway?” she asked, with an anxious note in her voice. “Whom? To whom am I speaking, please?”

“Nobody,” he said.

“Good. Because I’ve just rill…rillized…re-a-lized…I’ve been saying some things that I didn’t mean to say a _loud_ to anybody…”

“Here come Corin and Queen Lucy,” he said.

“Oh. That’s just as well. It’s _high_ time I was in bed.”

Queen Lucy, who was rumpled and red-cheeked, bent over Aravis. “Oh dear,” she said. “You _have_ had a lot, haven’t you?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. It’s beneath my diggity.”

“At your age you oughtn’t to be worrying about your dignity.”

“But I _do_! I worry worry _worry_ about it! All the _time_ , practically. But not right now….”

“I got drunk at the Summer Festival when I was about your age. Quite smashed, in fact. So did Susan. And Edmund did it several years in a row. It’s bit of a tradition. Can you walk?”

Aravis sighed. “If I _have_ to,” she said resignedly.

Cor and Lucy got Aravis to her feet, and then Lucy slung Aravis’s arm over her shoulder and led her off. Aravis was still rambling: “I was just talking to Shasta just now…”

“She is _never_ going to live this down,” said Corin, shaking his head.

“Oh, don’t be mean,” said Cor. “Besides, I’ll bet she won’t remember any of it.”

“Probably not….Listen, Cor, did you mean what you said yesterday? About me acting like a puppy dog?”

“Do I have to answer that question?”

“I think you just did…Oh well, maybe I can figure out a way to redeem myself…” He yawned. “Are you ready to go to bed yet? Almost everybody’s either dancing or gone in.”

Cor looked around. Most of the people who had been sitting at the nearby bonfires were gone. A cool night breeze blew through the smoke in the air. He couldn’t see the dancers, but the flutes and drums were still playing. He could hear singing and some shouting, the thump of feet, the click of cloven hooves. “Not yet. I like it out here,” he said

“Well, I’m ready to turn in. Tomorrow I want to be able to stay up all night.”

Corin wandered off to the tent and Cor sat up for a while, staring into the fire and thinking about what Aravis had said. He felt a little guilty for some of the leading questions he’d asked, but with any luck she wouldn’t remember the conversation clearly in the morning. 


	6. In the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peridan consoles Susan. Aravis talks to a satyr.

The next day Aravis had a bad hangover but bore it so stoically that almost nobody realized it. It was over by early afternoon, anyway, and in the meantime, Queen Lucy showed her where there was a hot springs, and they had a soak in the warm, sulfurous water. Aravis privately vowed never to get that drunk again. She pretended not to remember much of the previous evening, but in fact she remembered her conversation with Cor quite well, and she thought about it every so often for a long time afterward. Sometimes she wished she hadn’t said quite so much, and sometimes she wished she’d said more. 

King Lune stayed one full day and left the following morning, leaving Shar and the two queens to look after the twins and Aravis. He was bound back to Cair Paravel to spend a couple of days conferring with King Peter before returning to Anvard. After he left, it seemed to Aravis that the atmosphere became even looser. She wasn’t sure whether it had to do with the departure of the king, who had a reputation for probity, or whether it was just the way that things normally developed as the festival went on. The dancing was wilder and there was a lot of open kissing. She was fairly sure that there were many assignations in the woods, but if so, they happened out of her sight and hearing. When King Edmund departed on the fourth morning a whole bevy of nymphs crowded around to kiss him goodbye. Aravis thought that the nymphs and satyrs must have good intuitions about who was interested, and in what. She noticed that the nymphs let Shar alone, but that evening she saw a satyr at one of the bonfires, leaning his head close to Shar’s, talking to him and very obviously making eyes at him. Shar was grinning, but he kept shaking his head, and finally the satyr laughed and turned to flirt with someone else.

 

The morning of the last day of the festival, Aravis was on her way to the hot springs when she came upon Queen Susan sitting on a log with Lord Peridan. He had his arm around the queen and her head was on his shoulder. Luckily neither of them saw Aravis before she backed away as quietly as she could. “But they do blame me,” the queen was saying in a tearful voice, “Some of them do. You should have seen the look Cole gave me when I went down there after the battle.” Aravis didn’t hear Peridan’s reply. She knew there were people at Anvard who blamed Queen Susan for Rabadash’s attack. Lord Cole might well be one of them—his brother had died in the battle, and he had been among the courtiers who were most suspicious of Aravis in the weeks immediately after she arrived at Anvard. But although Aravis disliked the queen, she couldn’t blame her for what Rabadash had done. She had seen and heard him planning his attack, and she knew who was responsible for it. 

“Well, my reputation is in tatters,” the queen was saying. “I ought never to have let Peter persuade me…”

“You don’t really blame him, do you?” asked Peridan.

“Oh, of course not. I let him convince me. I should have listened to Edmund instead—he didn’t even think the match was good politics. In any case, Peter’s apologized, and I’ve forgiven him.”

Peridan started to speak, but the queen interrupted him. “Rabadash could be so _charming_ when he wanted to,” she said. “And I still think he’s a looker. But what a _bastard_!”

Aravis was puzzled. Did the queen really think that Rabadash was a bastard? If he was, and if the Tisroc ever found out about it, blood would flow.

“…I really thought I was a better judge of people,” the queen said. “Men are so untrustworthy,” she added. 

Peridan laughed. “Even me?” he asked.

“Especially you.”

They were quiet for a long moment and then they started talking again in low voices. Aravis couldn’t hear more than a word or two. Abruptly, she remembered that here eavesdropping was frowned upon. At home the problem with listening in on people’s conversations wasn’t ethical, it was practical: how not to get caught. If people weren’t careful to make sure they weren’t overheard, it wasn’t a sin to listen. She started to back away, but then she heard her own name and stopped again to listen.

“Oh, of course she’s not a spy,” the queen was saying. “What a ridiculous idea! No, I’m sure she’s exactly what she appears to be: an arrogant provincial tarkheena who ran away from an arranged marriage. And who could blame her?”

Provincial? _Provincial?_

“…but we’d better get used to her. Edmund thinks she’s going to be queen of Archenland one day.”

“How—” Peridan started. “Oh. Really? I didn’t have that impression at all.”

“Well, they’re so young. Who knows? But Ed’s often right about these things. It’s rather amazing, considering what a mess he’s made of his own…”

Aravis decided she didn’t want to hear any more. That was the problem with eavesdropping: sometimes you heard things you wished you hadn’t. She backed away quietly.

She felt pensive as she wandered through the woods. Eventually she found another path to the hot springs and soaked for a while, then got out of the pool, put on her shift, and lay there in the grass, half asleep. Tomorrow at dawn the bonfires, which had been burning continuously for the last seven days, would be allowed to burn out. Those who wanted to would sleep all day, and the next day they would ride south, camping the first night in the southern marches of Narnia and crossing the pass into Archenland the day after that. They would be home in a few days. Home. Home was Anvard now.

“You’re very beautiful,” said a voice. Aravis ignored it. The voice spoke again. “You are very beautiful,” it said. Nobody answered. “Do you not believe me, Tarkheena?” asked the voice. She felt puzzled. The voice could not be speaking to her, but she was the only tarkheena—the only Calormene—at the festival. 

Aravis opened her eyes and sat up. A satyr was looking at her quizzically. His ears were shaped like a horse’s, but otherwise he looked like a rustic young man, naked except for a cloth wrapped around his waist. His skin was brown, not as dark as hers, but not white, either. Looking at a brown face was pleasant; she was getting used to all these white faces, but sometimes she still felt as though she was surrounded by ghosts. His hair was wildly curly, and his eyes were wide and greenish. “Do you not believe me?” he asked again. 

“No,” she said.

The satyr snorted. “Daughters of Eve can be so stupid,” he said. "And Sons of Adam even stupider," he added.

“I mind being called stupid more than I mind being called plain,” she said.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I’m used to being called plain, I suppose.”

“Then it’s the people who call you plain who are stupid,” said the satyr.

It was a little odd to be sitting there half-dressed, talking to a nearly naked, lustful northern demon. But Aravis wasn’t worried. Why wasn’t she worried?

“Are you going to try to kiss me?” she asked.

“No,” he said. 

“Why not? If I’m so beautiful….”

“You don’t want me to,” said the satyr. “And even if you did, I’ve been warned never to touch a Son of Adam or Daughter of Eve as young as you are.”

“Oh,” Aravis said, half disappointed and half relieved.

“I don’t understand you Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve,” the satyr said plaintively. “You make everything so terribly complicated.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. 

“You deny yourselves many of the pleasures of the flesh, for reasons I don’t understand,” he said.

Aravis shrugged. “Don’t you understand honor? Dignity?”

“No,” he said.

“But you aren’t an animal….”

“No more than you are,” he said.

Aravis was not sure what to say to this, so she changed the subject. “I’ve been wondering about something,” she said. “Do you—satyrs and nymphs—always know when a person wants to be kissed, or, or to…”

“To make love?” asked the satyr. “Usually we can tell. But sometimes we make mistakes, especially when a Son of Adam or Daughter of Eve is confused. And we do have very strong urges, so sometimes unfortunate things happen…I suppose it’s because of those mistakes that some humans don’t trust us…But you needn't worry now. During the festival we are all on our best behavior.”

Aravis laughed. “This is your best behavior?” she asked.

The satyr grinned wickedly, his horsey ears twitching forward. Why wasn’t she worried? But she could feel that she was in no danger from him. She wondered how human he was under the cloth around his waist. As far as she had seen, there was a no rule with satyrs. Some were quite goaty or horsey, though none of them had more than two legs. Others looked completely human except for an indefinable but unmistakable wildness.

They sat there in silence for a few moments. Aravis was sleepy and decided to lie back down. “You are very beautiful, Daughter of Eve,” said the satyr. “Don’t believe anybody who says otherwise.” When she woke up a while later, he was gone. 

I must have dreamed that, she thought.

She slept most of the afternoon away and danced all night on the last night of the festival.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to a very long, unfinished story that takes place about six weeks earlier at Anvard and concerns events and characters mentioned in this story (e.g. the episode of Lord Fard). If I ever finish it, I may post it, but last time I looked at it, it needed a lot of work!
> 
> Most evidence in _The Horse and His Boy_ points to it taking place in the spring. In the episode in Tashbaan Tumnus talks about the Summer Festival as though it is something in the near future; according to Aslan the Autumn Festival hasn't occurred yet; Aravis says that her marriage to Ahoshta was supposed to take place "this very year at the time of high summer"; the weather seems springlike (no extremes of heat or cold). King Lune and his courtiers are out hunting, which suggests autumn, but I've made an executive decision to ignore that and decree that the Battle of Anvard was in early April. Of course the Summer Festival would be around the Solstice, about 10 weeks later. (I will not entertain the question of why Narnia even has a Solstice, given that it's a flat world that doesn't seem to orbit around anything....)


End file.
